


My Sun And My Stars

by WeaselBoiIzuna



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Gender-Neutral Apprentice, Gender-neutral Reader, M/M, Multi, Other, Romantic Fluff, asra/Julian/reader is implied a little, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 02:03:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20323273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeaselBoiIzuna/pseuds/WeaselBoiIzuna
Summary: The Apprentice reflects on their life now that they can actually remember it, thinking back to the exact moment they fell in love with Asra as he lays in their lap.





	My Sun And My Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I’m so bad at summaries, forgive me. This is mostly just a little history to my own apprentice OC, but I really just wanted to give my best boy some love. I haven’t written anything in a while, so be patient with me. Haha.

There were few things you could easily say you wanted out of life. Food, shelter, a job to provide you with both those things, and an all powerful love that entirely consumed you. All of which had been given to you so wholly by one person, by someone who, for the last three years of your life, had seemed like the least likely person capable of giving you much of anything. 

Asra. 

For three years he had kept you from the truth, lied to you, kept you at arms length, though you could hardly fault him for it, at least not now that you knew why, not now that you knew just how deeply his love for you ran, how you’d known him for nine years, not just the last three, but the time before you had died. 

That’s right, something you learned recently. Asra had left when the plague broke out. You had begged him to stay, he had begged you to leave with him. The memories of that particular fight definitely were not among the fondest. You’d both said hurtful things, you more than him. All he wanted was to protect you, and in turn you’d called him a coward. 

You remembered that after Asra had left, you’d taken to working with Julian Devorak in his small clinic, remembered the feelings you’d had for him as well, though they were incomparable to how you’d felt for Asra, and the loss of him had you making more than a few questionable life choices, and then Julian left, too. The Count had requested him specifically to help find a cure for the plague, and while helping patients in the clinic, eventually you had fallen victim as well. You tried not to think about how Julian’s absence had felt like being abandoned all over again. 

You died alone in that clinic. And you know Julian and Asra both hate themselves for it— for leaving you— regardless of how many times you have told both of them that they did what they had to, that you didn’t blame either of them, that it was inevitable. Nothing could have prevented you from trying to help, and neither of them could have done anything to save you the moment you contracted the plague. 

Nothing could change the past, either. 

Julian was off sailing the world now, last you’d heard, he and Mazelinka had returned to Nevivon, but the details of his last letter eluded you at the moment. You were preoccupied by the head of fluffy white curls in your lap, your fingers trailing through the impossibly soft tresses as you softly hummed some song from your childhood—you don’t recall when the last time you heard it was, nor do you remember the words, but the melody remained. 

Asra lay with his eyes closed, curled against your legs, his breath even and slow, though you were fairly certain he wasn’t asleep, not yet at least. The heart you shared beat in sync, relaxed and rested. He looked perfect, like some celestial being that had fallen from the sky, a heaven-sent gift. Though a fortnight ago, you might have laughed at the idea, now it seemed fully possible. 

He was one of the first people you met when you came to Vesuvia as a lost thirteen year old on a quest to learn magic, and he had been more than eager to teach you. He had never been anything but kind, and you remember everything so fully now. 

You think back to the moment you were absolutely certain was the very moment you fell in love with him, and a smile pulls at your lips at the memory. You were seventeen, and he was trying to teach you—without first showing you how it was done— how to heat water in a teapot, or was it a kettle? It doesn’t matter, either way, your first attempt failed so brilliantly. The kettle, or teapot, had practically screamed, and shot lukewarm water at the both of you. 

You’d been mortified, embarrassed, and honestly, had considered just offing yourself in that moment of silence before Asra had begun to laugh. You’d swallowed thickly, and he’d leaned to push your damp hair from your face, and murmured for you to try again. Unsure at first, you did try again, and you succeeded, and in that moment, with his soft praises, when he turned to you and grabbed your hands, his amethyst eyes meeting yours, you knew that you loved him. 

Perhaps that was the very moment he knew he loved you, too. You’d noticed the way he looked at you had changed after that, and you remembered it was only a week later when he’d kissed you for the first time, as you rode in a gondola after a long day of shopping (for herbs and spices you couldn’t even pronounce at the time), under the fireworks. 

You remember then your ride back from the Lazaret when the fireworks had started, the way Asra had looked at you. Had he been thinking about that first kiss? Had he wanted to kiss you again? You wouldn’t have objected. 

Perhaps it hadn’t been obvious to Asra, but in the last three years, your feelings for him had come back, near immediately, in full force. It had been frustrating, being so distracted by how you felt while you tried to learn from him, even more frustrating when he would leave for days, and sometimes weeks, at a time. 

But he was here now, and he promised he wouldn’t leave again, unless he was taking you with him, which he’d also promised. Many times. 

Asra’s subtle movements pulled you from your reverie, and you opened your eyes to look down at him, meeting his gaze, amethyst peeking through his white lashes. His lips were curved, half mischievously, as he watched you. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asked, quirking a brow, fingers now tracing circles up and down the outside of your thigh. 

“I was thinking about why your father’s story about the teapot sounded familiar,” you teased, watching his expression fall to one of feigned hurt. 

“Ouch!” He laughed, that beautiful sound you would never tire of hearing, and recovered shifting to lay back against the nest of pillows the two of you had shared for the last six years. “You mastered making tea beautifully, though, love.” 

You moved to lay your head on his chest, your way of silently telling him it was your turn to have your hair played with, and his arms circled around you to do just that. 

Another smile pulled at your lips, and your eyes closed as you felt yourself drifting, not a care in the world aside from the hands brushing though your hair, and the heartbeat that matched your own. 

“You are my sun and my stars,” you heard yourself murmur, never more sure than now that he had always been your guiding light. 

“And you are the moon of my life,” he returned your sentiment, just as softly, whispering his love to you as you fell deeply asleep in his arms. 

So much had changed so quickly, but your last thought was how much had actually stayed the same. You had food, shelter, a job, and a love that consumed you.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll probably end up writing more fics with my apprentice, at some point, so let me know if that’s something any of y’all would be interested in. LOVE!


End file.
